


Wish You Were Here

by mahbecks



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Drama & Romance, F/M, Light Angst, Loneliness, Masturbation, Songfic, not very explicit
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-09
Updated: 2015-06-09
Packaged: 2018-04-03 15:33:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,043
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4106013
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mahbecks/pseuds/mahbecks
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Cullen knew it was selfish of him to want to keep the Inquisitor all for himself. She was so many things to so many people. She was their one, shining bright hope to restore peace to Thedas. She had to leave, even when all he wanted to do was hold her tight and never let go. He would manage in her absence. He had always managed. </p><p>But oh, how he wished she were here.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Wish You Were Here

**Author's Note:**

> Hi guys!
> 
> This is a Songfic, loosely based upon the Pink Floyd song "Wish You Were Here". I'm a big fan, if you couldn't tell from my author icon. I strongly recommend you listen to it while reading this, though of course that's not necessary. I know it's available on Spotify with a free account! It's a beautiful little song. Like lots of Pink Floyd songs, there's quite a bit of intro. You have to wait a little bit to get to the lyrics :)

How I wish you were here.

Cullen groaned at the thought as he stared up at the hole in his ceiling. He'd awoken late – the one morning in recent memory such an occurrence had happened – and Evelyn had been gone. He'd known she was leaving. She had work to do on the Exalted Plains, attempting to clean up the mess Gaspard and Celene had wrought in the countryside. She had stayed with him the previous night, made love to him hard. He'd fallen asleep with her in his arms.

What he wouldn't give to have that be a common event.

But Evelyn was the Inquisitor, and her duties were manifold. She could not stay with him at all hours of the day, despite his desperate wish that she could. It was agony, letting her go out into the wild all of the time. He never knew if she would make it back, if today would be the day that she fell. The odds always seemed stacked against her.

Her face popped into his mind unbidden. Her sweet, lovely face, with her sunkissed, golden hair and those warm brown eyes. Her round, cute little nose with a smattering of freckles across the bridge. Her full, almost plump lips, always drawn up into a smile – for him, for Cassandra, for Varric, for everyone. How was she so kind to people? Was it not exhausting?

Imagining her didn't help the ache he felt for her. He had just seen her last night, just slaked the thirst of his lust for her – but it wasn't enough. It was never enough. He didn't know that it would ever be enough.

He reached down and grabbed himself, wrapping his fingers around his cock. He groaned at the touch as he began to stroke himself. It wasn't the same. Evelyn's fingers were small and warm, not as strong as his, but there was a certain finesse to her touches that always left him trembling.

His pace increased as the images of her came to his mind. Evelyn smiling at him, Evelyn caressing the scar on his lip, Evelyn splayed underneath him with his name on her tongue, Evelyn as she rode him into oblivion. She was so beautiful, so strong. Sometimes he felt she was the only thing holding his world together.

"Evelyn," he murmured, turning his face into a pillow to stifle the sounds that came from his throat, unbidden. He had to admit, it was a bit of a turn on to think that anyone could walk into his office and hear him. The illicit nature only served to further arouse him.

He could feel the pressure building in his abdomen, threatening to overtake him. He muffled another moan with the pillow and reached his other hand down, cupping his balls as the other continued to work on his cock. "Maker," he breathed. "Oh, Evelyn."

Was it sacrilegious to mention his god and his love in the same, salacious sentence?

He came with a final groan, relaxing back into the sheets. He stared up at the morning sky through the ceiling's hole, trying to regain his breathing. A bird flew over him, singing a sweet melody. Another bird, likely its mate, answered its call. He listened to them for a little while, their trills strangely soothing.

When they stopped, no doubt having flown off to find food or water or whatever else birds needed, Cullen found it oddly sad. How many times had he heard birds sing, only to brush them off? Normally, he found their trilling in the morning annoying. Perhaps he should listen to them more often.

He sat up with a sigh, a strange sense of loss in his gut. He shouldn't feel this way. It made him feel guilty. Evelyn was not just his – she belonged to everyone in the Inquisition. She was their only hope, their shining savior. She was so many things to so many people. Was it infinitely selfish of him to want to keep her all to himself? Even if he felt she was the only one who truly understood, who truly knew him?

Grabbing one of the sheets, he wiped himself off before going to find a fresh change of clothing. He couldn't think on these things; such thoughts were like sinking sand. If he indulged in one, he would resign himself to a melancholy brooding that would remain until Evelyn returned. And his men did not deserve that.

No. He would have to make due until she was finished with the damn Orlesians. He would throw himself into his work as usual, work himself hard enough that he didn't have time to think of her. He would train with the men, read Leliana's reports, and attend war meetings in Evelyn's absence.

He would manage. He always did, though it got a little more unbearable each time she left. Each time he realized how desperately he was falling in love with her.

She would want him to be strong. She would expect him to be strong. He was the Inquisition's Commander, its military backbone. If Evelyn was the head of the Inquisition, then he was the fist, and the powerful arm that drove a punch forward. He needed to remain strong for them to succeed. For her to succeed.

He put the finishing touches on his ensemble, buckling the last pieces of his armor into place. He strode over to his mirror to check on his hair. He couldn't help but smirk at its willful nature. A few swipes of water, and a dab of some product Josephine had given him, and he looked presentable again.

He paused at the top of the ladder, steadying himself for the day ahead. It was likely to be full of paperwork, dull training exercises, bad food, and headaches. When he finally had time to rest, his sleep would likely be filled with nightmares, if it even came at all. But it would all be worth it in the end, when they defeated Corypheus. All of the pain, all of the struggle, all of the loss… it would all be worth it when they restored peace to Thedas. The thought steeled him, gave him strength.

But oh, how he wished she were here.

**Author's Note:**

> I feel kind of dirty. I wrote and posted this in my office. haha
> 
> Thanks for reading! :)


End file.
